Loss.

The war had come with thunder and death. And all of the Equestrian Wasteland seemed in mourning. We were deep in our darkest hour, just praying for a ray of light.

We had all suffered loss.

My friends and I had lost one of our own, SteelHooves. He had finally found rest, finally been reunited with his beloved Applejack and their child in whatever life lies beyond this. But all I felt was the gaping wound of his absence. An abscess in the core of our party, aching and hollow, where SteelHooves should have been. The spectre of his death hung over everything, casting all our individual losses into even deeper shadow. Making us all seem more vulnerable and fragile.

I was struggling with a loss of my very self. I was not who I was anymore. Not Littlepip. I was an alien in my own body, a body warped into something entirely non-pony by taint. And I was a stranger in my own mind, not knowing the truth of the things I had done. Velvet’s words had cut cruelly, not because she was cruel but because she was right. The balefire bomb had been an atrocity. And yet, as Velvet Remedy had assured me, it had been the necessary thing to do. Without my memories, I didn’t know if I had simply never thought of the consequences… or if I had and went ahead anyway.

SteelHooves had paid the price. He had lost his life because of what I had done.

I knew I would never watch those memories. Well, maybe the eighth memory orb – my soul needed Homage’s every healing touch – but not the others. I didn’t want to know how much I had realized. If I had committed a holocaust, I couldn’t bear it. It would be the final, fatal separation from self.

Velvet Remedy was suffering a loss of faith. Velvet was hurting more deeply than the rest of us. The foundation of all that she was had been shattered. The wasteland was more cold and cruel and brutal than any pony should have to bear -- too much for a pony whose soul was one filled with kindness and caring for others, whose core desire was to help, to heal and to make things better. To her, it didn’t matter if the hurting creature was a pony, a zebra or a monster. Friend, stranger or enemy were all worthy of the same compassion in Velvet Remedy’s eyes. I remembered her considering a hellhound a patient and easing the pain of a dying alicorn. Velvet Remedy had weathered all the Equestrian Wasteland had thrown at her, sometimes weakening but never failing in her belief that helping others was the right course of action. And she had done so, fighting both the despair and ugliness of the wasteland and her own inner demons by clinging to her personal religion of Fluttershy. The kindness of the Mare of Peace had been her anchor and her bulwark.

Now, the memories of SteelHooves had revealed the truth to Velvet Remedy, and that bulwark was shattered. And she was drowning.

Calamity was fighting against a loss of all he held dear, and he felt he was losing that battle. Already, one of his friends was dead, and he could see those he held most dear, including the mare he loved, slipping away into their own darkness.

And that horror was playing out against the backdrop of the end of his world. After meeting one of Calamity’s brothers (and seeing hints that the rest of his family were as bad or worse), I found Calamity’s “policy” and his personal horror over Bucklyn Cross were brought into sharp focus. Calamity was my closest friend, and I was only now beginning to understand and truly know him. And now the Enclave had descended upon us with “Operation Cauterize”. It was one thing for Calamity to have rejected and left the Enclave, but it was quite another for him to witness the Enclave rise up as the greatest threat to Equestria.

Like us, Applejack’s Rangers had lost SteelHooves. He had been their Elder and their center, the figure around whom they had gathered. Now, the fledgling force for good faced a harrowing fight to survive.

And it was not only us. All of the Equestrian Wasteland was suffering. With the destruction of Canterlot, the ponies of the wasteland had lost the greatest symbol of the fabled past of peace and tranquility that was the era before the war. It was as if the final strands of the past had been severed with the death of SteelHooves and the destruction of that city. The proof of what we had once been had carried with it the silent promise that we could, possibly, be that again. Now, we were adrift in a sea of darkness.

Within the same day, the wasteland had lost more than an icon; we had lost one of our greatest centers of ponykind with the bloody massacre at Friendship City. We had lost what little peace the wasteland had to offer. We had lost the assurance that even those living within the walls of a fortified city would live another day. All across Equestria, ponies mourned for the dead and feared for the living.

As if these wounds were not deep enough, the ponies of the wasteland had lost the voice that called out to them in the darkness, bringing truth and hope: the voice of DJ Pon3. But in this, at least, the loss was not absolute. Homage was out there, fighting back, and DJ Pon3’s voice would occasionally cry out within the darkness, bringing a flicker of light before it was silenced.

And even our enemies had suffered great loss.

The alicorns had lost their Goddess, their guide and compass. They had lost the Unity which connected them and gave them purpose. They had lost the constant voice in their heads to which they had been subservient. And even now, many were beginning to lose their minds.

The hellhounds, the most vicious and deadly of all monsters in the wastelands had the heart of their civilization torn asunder, and the bulk of their kind annihilated in a single blast of necromantic green fire. Psychotically territorial, now they no longer had a home of their own.

And the Enclave themselves. They had lost one of their leaders and a great many of their ponies in what was, to them, a cowardly and heinous terrorist attack. How much of their overkill was fueled by the rage and grief of a wounded nation?

Operation: Cauterize was costing them more than they were ready to lose. They had not anticipated the resistance they would encounter, either from without or within. Their victories had been pyrrhic at best. The pegasi were facing not only loss of forces, and possible defeat, but for many a loss of ideology as well. And it only promised to get worse the longer they stayed here.

Of all those in the wasteland, perhaps only Red Eye had not yet suffered loss. But that would soon change.

Loss. It doesn’t bring out the best in us, or the worst, although it can do either. It doesn’t show us who we truly are. It just hurts. And it makes us all the same. Even the most sadistic raider, immune to empathy, who draws joy and strength from the suffering of others, will feel grief over a loss they suffer themselves.

In the black pit of loss, we all pray for light.

Ditzy Doo exploded… and the explosion was massive!

The center of the explosion was a glorious greenish-gold so bright it seemed to sear my eyes, lingering in my vision long after I had looked away. From that epicenter erupted a ring of spectral light, riding an enormous shockwave, rippling with strange colors like a toxic rainbow.

The missiles chasing Ditzy Doo were bucked backwards, exploding in the air yards behind her. Molten payloads discharged in plumes of eldritch hellfire, burning the sky above and below Ditzy Doo; but even as they missed, the force of the twin detonations slammed into the ghoul like she was made of rags. Ditzy Doo’s body somersaulted, peppered with shrapnel, and plummeted -- unconscious or dead -- towards the ground. She was no longer glowing.

But the bursts of fire and energy from the missiles were barely noticed in the fury of what Ditzy Doo had unleashed. The ear-splitting crack of her feat drowned out their pitiful explosions. The shockwave blasted through the air, tearing off roofing from the few buildings in New Appleloosa not made of train cars, scattered debris, and tore the Enclave pegasi out of the sky.

Well, there’s only one way t’ clear an area that big that fast, Calamity had told me when I asked about removing part of the cloud curtain. An’ that’s with a sonic rainboom.

The realization of what I was seeing struck me, half-formed in my brain, as the shockwave knocked the four Enclave Raptors away from the city as the ring of unearthly light washed over them, tearing away their clouds. The Raptors used clouds as integral components for their locks, their computers, structural elements… and the storm clouds that kept them aloft. The mighty Enclave warships crumbled as they fell. Three crashed down just beyond the city’s walls. The fourth was not pushed so far away, its corpse dropping towards homes and ponies below until a caramel-colored field of levitation magic caught it and nudged it away just enough that it struck down on a durable assemblage of boxcars just left of Turnpike Tavern.

Even as my mind was putting a name to what I was seeing, I lashed out with my magic, tossing a levitation net under Ditzy Doo’s limp body, wrapping her in it. She was falling so fast I knew I would never be able to stop her from splattering against the ground, but I had to try.

Two more levitation fields wrapped around my own. A powerful one of that familiar caramel color, and a weak glow of palest silver. Even the three of us could not stop her fall, only slow her down just a little.

Just enough for Calamity to catch her.

Even as Calamity burst through our levitation fields, forelegs outstretched, the body of Ditzy Doo cradled within them, the shockwave reached the heavens, tearing open the sky. Sunlight, the purest and most brilliant light imaginable, illuminated New Appleloosa in a warm glow. It was as if Celestia Herself had descended from the heavens and was giving the city a hug.

Shimmering colors floated in the air, the heavy storm clouds releasing their moisture as they dissipated. My PipLeg began to click with gentle warning. The rainfall was irradiated. Toxic.

While I could not see it for myself, I now know how far Ditzy Doo’s miracle reached.

Inside the walls of New Appleloosa, Xenith stood transfixed at the edge of a scrap metal walkway, the hood of her cloak down, her eyes lifted upwards towards the wonder above us. She was too distracted by the marvel above her to stop the little lavender filly, her newly-grown horn glowing with a pale silver light, as she dashed between the zebra’s legs, galloping towards where Calamity was just now landing. But her ears caught the filly’s cry.

“Mommy!”

Ditzy Doo’s sonic radiation boom did not stop at the edges of New Appleloosa. I spun, watching the expanding ring of Ditzy Doo’s explosion, a rainbow of glorious and diseased colors tearing outward, riding the shockwave that carried dust and detritus with it like a storm.

The sonic radiation boom blasted over the Everfree Forest, clearing the smoke and fanning the flames it didn’t blow out. The shockwave rattled the windows of the Cathedral. I am sure that, in that moment, Red Eye paused to look up into the sky, realizing something important had happened.

The blast was felt in Ponyville, driving the beleaguered town’s newest inhabitants underground. The toxic rainbow flashed out over Splendid Valley, driving a great radioactive wind before it.

The wash of strange light fanned out beneath the clouded sky. Looking up from the gravestone before which she was grieving, a charcoal-coated unicorn watched as the light mirrored across the lake behind SteelHooves’ shack.

The thundering crack of the sonic radboom echoed through the grey canyons of the Manehattan Ruins. Staring out through his office window in Tenpony Tower, a mottled brown unicorn with a scroll on his flank watched as sunlight spilled down on a town far away, the golden glow reflecting in his glasses.

Even amongst the cold, windswept crags of Shattered Hoof Ridge, where the storm clouds were unleashing a flurry of summer snow, the glow of Ditzy Doo’s sonic radiation boom was visible on the monitors inside the base station of the Shattered Hoof Ridge Tower, lighting up part of the horizon in a pulse of weird luminescence.

And just outside of town, this little unicorn mare with a PipBuck on her flank was finally feeling the pieces of that great puzzle slide into place in her head. I had spent my life searching for who I was, trying to find meaning in my existence. As a filly, I yearned to discover my cutie mark, needing to know what made me different and special… if anything at all. Outside, my search evolved into a quest to find my virtue and ultimately my place in this vast and cruel wasteland.

Now, in the light given to us by Ditzy Doo, I began to see. As each piece slid slowly into place, they began to reveal to me what I had spent my life longing for: purpose.

I levitated myself over the wall of New Appleloosa. I didn’t care that I was banned from the city. Not now. Calamity had just landed inside, cradling Ditzy Doo. My heart was screaming; I didn’t know if she was alive or dead. I had already lost SteelHooves just two days ago. I didn’t think I could bear to lose another friend. Not so soon.

I landed on the puddle-covered ground inside, and galloped towards where Calamity sat on a set of railroad tracks, bathed in sunlight, Ditzy Doo’s body resting in his forelegs. There was ichor bleeding from innumerable small wounds. Silver Bell and Xenith were gathered close to him, and others were beginning to circle. If Railright wanted to kick me out, let him try.

My heart was pounding as I reached Calamity, my eyes filling with tears as I watched the pegasus ghoul, praying to Celestia and Luna for any sign of movement. Of life.

My mind flashed to Velvet Remedy holding SteelHooves and the sobs started.

The rainout felt strange against my coat, but the warmth and true light of the sun was too majestic to take cover inside. My gaze drifted upwards to the crystalline blue of the hole above us, a yawning up-ness that that went on forever. Unlike that starry night sky which I first glimpsed through breaks in the clouds on my first wasteland night, this sky was wonderful and embracing, inspiring none of the terror I had felt before.

“No,” I whimpered softly to myself and to the Goddesses. “Please no. She has to be alive. She has to see this. She deserves to see this.”

The ponies of New Appleloosa were coming out of the homes and shops where they had taken refuge. They were all staring up at the sky, seeing sunlight for the first time. Most seemed shell-shocked, but slowly many began to smile.

A few specks of color swirled through the bright blue above. Some began to drift downward, chasing each other. Pegasus ponies from the world above the cloud curtain, drawn by the phenomenon.

“W-what just happened?” I heard a buck ask somewhere to my left.

“I think… Ditzy Doo just saved us,” a mare responded.

I watched those pegasi fly down towards New Appleloosa, hesitant, curious. The brightly colored pegasi didn’t look like Enclave ponies. They didn’t wear the dark colors of the Enclave nor move like they intended attack.

They ain’t bad ponies, Li’lpip, Calamity’s voice whinnied in my memory. If most o’ the ponies up there saw fer themselves what’s goin’ on down here, they’d buck the damn Enclave and pony up t’ help.

I hope so, I thought, my eyes falling back to Ditzy Doo. Silver Bell had stepped forward and was nudging her gently, whimpering.

Poke. Ow.

“M-m-mommy?”

Oh Goddesses, please no…

Behind me, a young colt’s voice called out, “Ma! Didja see it? Didja see? Derpy saved us! And… and Derpy’s hurt!”

“I know, Trolley,” the colt’s mother said softly. “I saw.”

She deserves to see this, I cried out in prayer, my vision blurring badly as Ditzy Doo continued not to move.

Please!

A shift. A slight fluttering of her eyes. One rolled to meet Silver Bell. Then Ditzy Doo whispered something… almost unintelligible, but that sounded to me, despite her missing tongue, a lot like “Sorry, love. Mommy’s sleepy.”

I collapsed, crying harder than ever. But now the sobs were of relief and of joy. She was still alive!

“Mommy!” Silver Bell jumped and hugged the ichor-coated ghoul fiercely. Unable to lift her forehooves, the pegasus limply wrapped her wings around the rapturous filly.

“Mommy,” the little unicorn gushed happily, “You made everything so pretty!”

Sunlight poured over us. Towards the horizon behind us, the toxic rainbow was breaking up and fading away

Silver Bell had climbed up onto Ditzy Doo, her hooves slipping against the ichor bleeding out of the dying pegasus’ many wounds. I had wrapped her in a magical cocoon and was floating both of them towards Ditzy Doo’s store where Pyrelight was perched just outside on a rain barrel.

We just need to get her inside, I was thinking. Lay her down next to Pyrelight. Find some bandages… there will be bandages inside. There has to be. It’s Absolutely Everything.

“I am sorry,” Xenith was saying. “I tried to keep her inside, but your daughter can be… evasive.”

“Are you coming home now, mommy?” Silver Bell begged. “Miss Xenith is… okay. But she’s not a mommy.” The little filly lowered her voice, whispering into a ragged, ghoulish ear, “And she’s kinda creepy.”

Xenith’s eyes widened just a moment, then coated with steel as she gazed away, Silver Bell’s words becoming another brick in her conviction that she was unfit to be a mother to her own child.

I winced a little. I knew Silver Bell meant no cruelty; I could only imagine how strange and remote Xenith had been. She was still wearing her zebra stealth cloak; I imagined she spent most of her time with the filly invisible to avoid trouble with the townsponies. But those words had done damage nonetheless.

Looking askance, Xenith offered, “Have you considered training her in the Fallen Caesar Style?” I found myself wondering about Xenith’s upbringing and her former tribe that her response to an evasive child was to suggest honing those natural talents with an art of killing and incapacitation.

Ditzy Doo dismissed the offer with a shake of her head and hugged Silver Bell close again with her wings.

My PipLeg was still clicking, but I couldn’t tell if the radiation was from the pegasus ghoul or the puddles of irradiated water. I suspected that Ditzy was still shedding minor levels of radiation, even after the sonic radboom. But not at levels which threatened the unicorn filly. Nothing that RadAway (blech!) wouldn’t cure. And right now, they needed to be able to hold each other.

The click-clicking jumped as Pyrelight landed on my head. Unwilling to wait for us to get inside, the balefire phoenix began bathing the wounded ghoul in golden-green radiation.

“Nuh-uh!” Silver Bell insisted, responding to Xenith’s offer. “I’m gonna be painter! See?” The lavender filly pointed, and my eyes followed her hoof. One of the nearby boxcar houses had a crude but colorful portrait of New Appleloosa painted across it.

This wall has a mural.

I cantered in a circle, really seeing New Appleloosa for the first time since my last visit. The painting was not alone. The child’s paintings decorated many of the train cars around me, as well as barrels, carts and anything else the folk of New Appleloosa would allow Silver Bell to beautify. I could see the progression of her skills from one storefront to the next. Between the sunlight and the colors of her paints, the town felt more inviting than anyplace in the wasteland.

The light sparkled off the irradiated puddles. The warmth of the sun massaged me through my coat. I could feel the bright rays touch my soul, the sunlight breaking through my defenses, all the clouds of pain and loss that layered my heart. The breath of the sun rekindled hope, and made all the darkness of the day before seem bearable. My heart twinged, wishing SteelHooves was here with us, wanting him to see this.

A gruff-looking pony with a spiked mane and a cutie mark of a skull impaled by a bloody dagger galloped past me, a shotgun in his mouth.

My gaze followed him as he reached one of the fallen Enclave pegasi. She was just starting to get back up when the buck reached her, rearing up and slamming his hooves into her head, driving her back against the ground. “Ansf shay duwn!” The pegasus’ visor was broken and I could see her purple eyes staring upwards at him in shock. The buck leveled the shotgun at one of the pegasus’ wings, keeping a hoof on her head and an eye on her deadly tail.

I heard a clatter of metal as another pegasi in ominous black carapace armor emerged from a pile of rubble that ten minutes ago had been a tool shed. Shadows blocked the sunlight above me as three more Enclave soldiers flew in over the wall and hovered overhead. All of New Appleloosa stood in silent awe of the sun… foals and the elderly were stepping out of their homes to marvel at the sky… but the Enclave pegasi had lived above the clouds all their lives. They had grown numb to the warmth and wonder of the sun, forgotten how to notice it. All they saw was the town that had once again struck them a devastating blow.

This battle wasn’t over.

Bzzzzack! Bzzzzack!

I crouched in the doorway of Absolutely Everything as beams of colorful light struck the doorframe and dissolved Ditzy Doo’s front door into a mound of slag. The heat coming off the melting door seared my coat.

Outside the door was chaos. We were fighting in the sunlight. It felt terribly wrong. Disgraceful. The little pony in my head worried, hoping that the good ponies of the town would not come to associate something so generous as sunlight with the ugly hurt of battle.

I fumbled telekinetically, trying to get my earbloom into my ear as I fired back with Little Macintosh. Applejack’s trusty revolver was the only firearm I had left. I realized with a twinge of loss that both my sniper rifle and the zebra rifle were still sitting in a crate somewhere in Manehattan. If they hadn’t been looted already.

“…mission objective has not changed.” a stallion’s voice boomed over the Enclave’s military frequency; I was almost certain it had to be coming from one of the downed Raptors. New Appleloosa was being attacked by dozens of Enclave soldiers rather than hundreds, suggesting that either the pegasi in those Raptors were trapped inside, or that beyond the city walls, the Enclave was having internal struggles. “We are here to disinfect Equestria of this terrorist encampment. Fly steady, soldiers! For the Council. For the Enclave!”

The black-armored pegasus darted behind an overturned pedal trolley. One of my bullets splashed into a puddle behind her, another burying itself in the trolley’s woodwork. The pegasus flapped her wings, rising up to fire again.

Ditzy Doo’s griffin bodyguard had produced a lightning rifle and disappeared upstairs. Calamity was further inside the store along with Pyrelight, both tending to Ditzy Doo as Silver Bell fetched medical supplies. I glanced back to see the lavender filly balanced precariously on several boxes as she tried to reach a key sitting on an upper shelf. I caught the filly and the key as the whole shelf came tumbling down, spilling cameras and teddy bears everywhere.

Distracted, I gave the attacking pegasus an easy shot, and she took it. I grunted in pain as part of my flank barding heated up, but the Canterlot Police Barding protected me from severe injury.

CRACK! White lightning arced out of a second-floor window above me. The pegasus mare screamed as she dropped, her black magically-powered armor fried. The mare was probably still alive, but without its spell matrix, her armor was too heavy to move in.

Beyond, I could see the bodies of the raider-like buck and the purple-eyed Enclave pegasus. They lay together, having traded lethal blows. Her purple eyes stared out lifelessly. His body was still impaled with the blade of her tail.

“Trolley, get inside NOW!” The voice came from somewhere outside and to my left.

I slipped out of the doorway, instantly alarmed. I’d seen too many foals die. The weight of the bottled ashes pressed against me through one of my saddle bags. I wouldn’t let anything happen to that little colt.

Trolley’s mother, whose straw sunhat and floral dress were soaked with irradiated rain, stood protectively between her colt and one of the Enclave soldiers. She had no weapon, but she stood firm, shielding her colt as he leapt up from where he was cowering behind her legs and ran for the nearest open door. I took aim at the pegasus as the magical weapons on the Enclave buck’s armor crackled.

Please can’t I go just a day without having to kill another pony? the little pony in my head pleaded sadly with the wasteland.

A streak of blue and white struck the ground between the mother and the buck just as (Bzzzzack! Bzzzzack!) the Enclave soldier fired.

The white pegasus with a mane and tail in a multitude of blues had landed, facing the Enclave soldier, her mouth open, the sentence dying before it could be spoken as one of the beams of lethal energy struck her square in the breast, the other searing through the mother’s sunhat, blasting it into ash.

BLAM! BLAM! click

My shots staggered the Enclave pegasus, one of the bullets piercing his armor, as the white pegasus mare crumpled to the ground. From her distressed breathing, the shot had torn and possibly vaporized one of her lungs.

I found myself calling out for Velvet Remedy before I remembered that she wasn’t with us anymore.

The Enclave pegasus froze for a moment, staring through his visor at the mewling white pegasus, stunned.

“Commander, we have Citizens here,” another voice called out over the Enclave’s military frequency. “Suggest withdrawal for a Shutterfly operation.”

I scrambled back behind cover, reloading Little Macintosh as a familiar khaki-coated buck with a vanilla mane raced out of a nearby train car and fell to the side of the white pegasus. One of the trio of young heroes whom we had met at Fluttershy’s Cottage.

“Somepony help me get her to Candi!”

Sparks and the ring of metal on metal erupted across the pegasus buck as he came under fire from a rooftop. I looked up to see a scarred, mane-less mare in raider armor firing railroad spikes from what looked like a homemade, steam-powered rifle. The town’s mayor Railright had taken cover behind an overturned workbench, a bundle of spikes between his teeth, prepared to reload.

More voices poured through my earbloom:

“…meeting unexpected resistance…”
“…not like previous encampments. There are foals here. Families…”

The Enclave soldier pivoted towards them, opening fire. A second black-armored pegasus swooped overhead, raining a cluster of magical energy grenades down on the mayor. I focused, magically redirecting the grenades back up to the attacker. They exploded with a frenzy of multi-colored light, ripping the pegasus bomber apart in the air. Blood and entrails splattered down on Railright. I felt nauseous. The bloody white intestines glistened in the sunlight.

“This is Commander Winter of the Raptor Nimbostratus. Remember, these are the terrorists who supplied Red Eye with the megaspell used to murder hundreds of Enclave citizens in their cowardly sneak attack! The unprovoked slaughter of Harbinger and so many of our brothers and sisters is a day that will forever burn in infamy …” the voice on the Enclave command frequency growled. I was struck by the dichotomy between what they told their own soldiers and the propaganda they polluted the Equestrian Wasteland with. “…and their flagrant use of illegal and horrific warfare tactics today shall only strengthen our resolve.”

More of my Canterlot Police Barding heated, the top layers melting as two magical energy bolts struck me. Another hit Ditzy Doo’s sign (Yes, I do deliveries!), obliterating her offer of free Wasteland Survival Guides.

Searching for the source of the attack, I spotted a pegasus in black armor landing on the balcony around Turnpike Tavern. Somepony else had spotted her too, as a green field of telekinetic energy wrapped around the pegasus, lifting her up and twirling her around. The little pony in my head winced, realizing the unicorn’s mistake a moment before the pegasus spread her wings and pushed herself out of the telekinetic sheath with a single flap.

Spinning her about had merely helped the targeting spell in her armor locate and lock onto the offending New Appleloosian; and even as my own targeting spell locked onto her, the pegasus vaporized the surprised unicorn with a rapid-fire lightshow from her integrated magical-energy minigun.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

I squeezed Little Macintosh’s trigger as quickly as I could. Several of the bullets were stopped by the pegasus’ black carapace, but one struck home in her wing. The pegasus lost control of her flight, spinning wildly before crashing into the New Appleloosian crane with a sickening crunch.

“…Fly steady!...”

The Enclave pegasus rebounded from the metal neck of the crane and crashed to the ground below. My eyes traveled upwards along the crane to the platform it held dangling high above the city, a platform stacked with railroad rails.

Somepony else had a similar idea. Caramel-colored magic flashed across the bolts beneath one side of the platform and the chains snapped free, the platform swinging down and dumping the mass of rails onto the pegasus just as she was getting back to her hooves. The sound of all those heavy metal beams striking ground and metal rolled across New Appleloosa like the percussion from hell’s own orchestra. I cringed away, covering my ears.

“…And do not forget that your actions here make your brothers and sisters, your families back home, safe once… Red? What are…?” The transmission in my earbloom suddenly went dead.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a unicorn mare weeping over a fallen guard buck. I saw her expression shift from inconsolable loss to red rage as an Enclave soldier landed in the street nearby, nuzzling the unmoving body of another armored pegasus. I knew what was about to happen; my little pony cried out a warning that never made it to my own lips as the unicorn floated the dead buck’s machinegun battle saddle into the air, took aim and fired.

The first bullets struck true, puncturing the Enclave soldier’s armor and scrambling his insides. But the kick of the battle saddle knocked it out of the mare’s magical hold, the gun spraying wildly, several bullets ripping through the poor unicorn herself. She stood, blood pouring down her side and flank, her eyes wide with a look of uncomprehending surprise, for at least three long seconds after the battle saddle had clattered to the ground behind her. Then she swayed and fell over the body of the guard buck she had been mourning, the life fleeing from her eyes.

Death was breathing over New Appleloosa. The grim reaper ponies were having a feast.

“STOP IT!” Calamity cried out, shooting through the doorway past me as two more Enclave soldiers flew over, firing swaths of burning plasma into the streets below, drawn out by the screams of ponies burning alive in agony. Calamity’s voice was filled with rage and sorrow, sounding heartbreakingly fragile as he bellowed, “STOP KILLING PONIES!”

Horrified, I commanded my targeting spell to ignore hostiles and instead start locking onto friendly targets. The ponies in those plasma fires could not be saved. I couldn’t bear to let them suffer. I wished Velvet Remedy was here, yearned for her anesthetic spell. But all I could offer were bullets.

BLAM…

…BLAM.

My targeting spell allowed me to aim perfectly through the flames. One shot each, to the head. It was a mercy, and I hated myself for it. I felt like my coat was writhing, wanting to crawl off my body in disgust.

“Attention, Enclave personnel!” a new mare’s voice burst into my ear as the Enclave military frequency crackled to life once again. “This is Acting Commander Red Glare of the Raptor Nimbostratus. Commander Winters has been relieved of his command. As of this moment, you take your orders from me.”

The fury of the battle waned a moment, many Enclave soldiers pausing to listen and reload.

“This battle is over. I am invoking the Shutterflight Protocol. All Enclave forces are to withdraw immediately and assist.”

And just like that, it was over.

The Enclave soldiers stopped. Turned their heads to the sunny blue of the sky above. And then, almost as one, flew upwards and away from us. Like demons fleeing hell.

It took the ponies of New Appleloosa several minutes to stop firing at them. But the pegasi were fast, and all but one had managed to get out of range before the townsfolk could strike them down from below. That single mare came pirouetting downwards like a falling shadow. She hit a rain barrel, smashing it, her blood tinting the irradiated water as it rushed away from her.

I fell against the doorway, my strength leaving me. My revulsion and horror gave way to a numbness that felt even worse. Beneath that numbness, I realized I was shaking.

Ditzy Doo had saved New Appleloosa. Without her, this town would be nothing but a smoking crater. But all around me, the dead and the crying drove home that this victory was not without grievous loss.

I watched Calamity land next to the fallen white pegasus with the fantastic blue hair. Her side was rising and falling -- she was struggling to breathe but still alive. (As I watched, I noticed that she wore a belt strap with a PipBuck dangling from it. It was locked closed, undoubtedly taken from the corpse of a previous owner; unable to open it to wear it herself, she had slung it over her like it was a canteen.) Calamity helped the khaki pony slide her onto a piece of sheet metal and carry her towards Candi’s clinic. There were several more ponies converging on the same building. Candi had already run out of room inside and was directing everypony to line up the wounded on the porch surrounding her clinic.

I shifted my gaze away, looking into the darkness of Absolutely Everything. Ditzy Doo’s griffin bodyguard was still perched in the upstairs window, watching the ascending pegasi like a hawk… or, well, a griffin.

Alarm shot through me as I realized nopony was tending to Ditzy Doo. I could see her in the back, illuminated by Pyrelight’s glow, unmoving. (Unmoving is okay, right? the little pony in my head asked frantically. Doesn’t mean anything. Ghouls don’t move much. SteelHooves would stand still for hours… oh Goddesses, SteelHooves.) Silver Bell was sitting beside the ghoul’s cot, the balefire phoenix wrapped in her forelegs. The little pony in my head stopped crying over my lost Ranger long enough to wince, remembering just how unhealthy that was for the filly. I prayed to the Goddesses that Ditzy Doo hadn’t lost her entire supply of RadAway when her delivery wagon was annihilated.

I tried to pull myself to my hooves, intending to gallop over to them, but my legs refused to bear my weight. I glanced at the medical display in my E.F.S., believing I hadn’t been wounded that badly in the battle. My armor had protected me, yes. But I was exhausted, emotionally brutalized, and I hadn’t slept since before the funeral. The light of the sun was the only thing giving me the spiritual strength and energy to keep going, and even that had been spoiled.

And then that light began to dim.

I lifted my gaze towards the skies. Far above, the Enclave pegasi were zooming back and forth across the circle of blue above us, drawing parallel lines of clouds across the opening. Strangely, I remembered an old story about skaters scoring the ice during Winter Wrap-Up. But then, as the thin lines of clouds began to thicken, expanding towards each other, filling the gaps of blue between, I realized it looked a lot more like somepony slowly closing the blinds over a window. The pegasi were once again locking up the sun.

Shutterflight.

My thoughts felt warm and melancholy and slightly fuzzy like little teddy bears that I wanted to hug as I went to sleep. Medical treatment at Candi’s was one part butterscotch rum.

Calamity had found me collapsed in the doorway, trying to worm my way towards Ditzy Doo, and had insisted on hauling me to the clinic. I had protested; I wasn’t wounded enough to warrant taking attention away from the other ponies. But I hadn’t needed to worry. I had been given a cot about half a block from the over-filled clinic, been stripped of my barding, and had been given a “canteen of healing” that smelled strongly of butterscotch.

The sounds of moans and crying drifted over me like layers of smoke. The air smelt like alcohol, blood and burnt flesh. In the cot next to me was an elderly green-coated earth pony. He had stepped outside to see the sun only to have his hindleg melted. Candi was telling his plaintive grandchildren that their grandpappy was in a “deep sleep” and might not wake up again for a long time. The young filly wrapped her forelegs around the slightly younger colt and held him as she broke into sobs.

I wanted to sob too. For SteelHooves. For Velvet. For the little filly whose ashes I kept in a jar. For Ditzy Doo… even though I still had hope she would survive this. And for all those who did not. But I couldn’t. I was too tired to cry. And there were too many ponies around. The little pony in my head told me that my pain, my grieving, was a private thing. I could cry with Calamity. Or with Homage. But not here in front of all these ponies.

Calamity laid down next to me, staring into the dirt, his hat tilted sadly. He wasn’t crying, not externally at least. But my friend couldn’t hide his pain. My heart reached out for him in a way my legs refused to.

“We’ll fix this,” I assured him.

Calamity stirred. He didn’t look at me. Instead, he looked towards the row of pony-shaped lumps under stained sheets.

“You can’t fix dead.”

His voice was flat, defeated. I wanted to bury my head, hide away from that voice.

My mind conjured the image of SteelHooves walking solemnly amongst the sheet-covered bodies, bearing solemn witness to the fallen. He should be here, my little pony mourned. Then my cruel imagination envisioned SteelHooves as one of the bodies under those sheets. I choked on a breath and had to look away.

I gazed over at Candi, my eyes tracing the white earth pony in her yellow-and-pink striped nurse’s dress. I had fancied her once, and she was indeed fanciable; but now I only regretted that she was not Velvet Remedy whose skills here were badly needed.

Or Homage. That was a selfish wish, but I allowed myself to have it anyway. Homage could heal and comfort me far more than a canteen of weak healing mixtures and rum. Homage was my sun. Her mere presence would warm me, her soft words would banish the dark shadows in my head. Her tongue, licking down to…

My thoughts were interrupted by the approach of Railright. The grey and black stallion was accompanied by the bald, scarred mare I had seen with him before. Her raider armor revealed just enough to make out her cutie mark: a black, needle-like dagger dripping blood.

My eyes narrowed.

“You gave Red Eye the balefire bomb,” I spat as he approached me, opening his muzzle to proclaim something. His muzzle snapped shut abruptly. The air between us felt brittle and charged with tense, unseen energy.

Calamity stood up, leveling a dark look at the mayor pony.

The bald pony cut in, either oblivious to the discord between myself and the mayor or unable to give a shit. “Wow. I get you now,” she announced. “Feels damn good t’ be a goddess-damned heroine for once. Fight on the side of the angels and all that.”

“Who the hell are you?” I groused. She looked like a raider. Sounded like one too.

“Stiletto,” she grinned savagely. “Shattered Hoof Raiders… although I guess we ain’t raiders no more. We’re protecting the waste for fun and profit.”

Gawd’s ponies. Shattered Hoof was hiring out mercenaries. Meshed with the spike-maned pony I had seen earlier and Ditzy Doo’s griffin bodyguard. Last I knew, Gawd had been consolidating her forces, but also contemplating what to do with the “bad eggs” amongst them. Maybe this was her solution for those ex-raiders not vile or untrustworthy enough to meet her talons but still undesirable to have around the house?

“And ya blew it up for him,” Railright said stonily.

“He threatened Homage with that bomb!” I hissed. Then, realizing the name meant nothing to him, “He threatened all of Tenpony Tower. Thousands of ponies!”

“Yer actions put me in a rather tight spot. Ah needed t’ show Red Eye that New Appleloosa weren’t against him,” Railright glowered a moment before glancing around. “Besides, would ya have preferred we keep an undetonated balefire bomb sittin’ here in town? No pony would do that. That would be insane!”

I felt my nerves jangle with energy. Despite my exhaustion, it was taking extreme effort (Be Pleasant) not to put a hoof through his face.

“Besides, it would seem y’all are workin’ for Red Eye anyway,” Railright whispered. The stallion smiled oddly. “From wipin’ out his slavers to wipin’ out his enemies… Ah couldn’t ‘ave seen that comin’.”

Extreme effort. Calamity bristled, neighing warningly.

“An’ he seems t’ have plans fer ya.”

What now?

Stiletto had apparently grown bored. She trotted away, sitting down and sharpening the spikes on her armor, her eyes watching the skies.

“What do you mean?” I asked, not sure I wanted the answer.

Railright shrugged. “Not sure. But Ah’ve come t’ tell ya that y’all are allowed back in New Appleloosa,” he told me. “No point keeping ya out when Red Eye considers ya an asset. Not t’ mention how unpopular that decision has made me amongst the DJ Pon3-loving herd.” Railright grumbled, “Ah’m rather lucky t’ still be mayor.”

Stiletto clopped over and poked the mayor with a forehoof. “Griffins inbound. Looks like the big boss.”

I turned my eyes towards the sky. The cloud cover had been completely restored; with over a hundred pegasi working on it, the breach had been sealed in under half an hour, casting the wasteland once again into heavy gloom. A far-off flash lit up the undersides of the storm clouds, echoed by a second flash a little closer. This flash illuminated a flock of griffins, two smaller ones flanking the flock leader as she guided them towards New Appleloosa.

Heavy raindrops began to fall.

Cold, clean water sprinkled from the blackened clouds above. Raindrops rippled the surface of the irradiated puddles, broadening and diluting them. The soft metallic clatter as the rain beat upon all the metal boxcars sounded like funeral drums. The rainstorm that the sky had been threatening began slowly, but soon Candi was corralling every volunteer she could to move the wounded inside before they were completely soaked.

Calamity moved to one end of my cot, then stopped, glowering at Railright and Stiletto. “One o’ ya is gonna grab that other end an’ help me take ‘er inta Absolutely Everything, or so help me…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiletto quipped before picking up the opposite end in her teeth. “You’re a tough buck. Very impressed and shit. Shaking, even.”

I wasn’t alone in my trip to Ditzy’s. Absolutely Everything had one of the larger interiors in New Appleloosa, and over half a dozen cots were floated, carried or dragged inside within minutes. “Well, that was an anti-shortcut,” I mumbled as my cot was placed near the doorway to Ditzy Doo’s room. The ghoul didn’t look like she had moved. Silver Bell was curled up on top of her, sleeping fitfully. An emptied packet of RadAway lay on the floor beneath them, a little bit of the glowing orange juice dribbling from the sleeping filly’s muzzle. Otherwise, Pyrelight’s radioactive glow ensured that Ditzy Doo had the room to herself.

“Is she going to be okay?” I asked Pyrelight. I was surrounded by ponies yet there was no one else to ask. Xenith had disappeared again.

The softly glowing bird hooted gently. Once more, I wished Velvet Remedy was here. I wasn’t sure she would be any better with ghoul physiology, but at least she could interpret Pyrelight’s musical notes for me.

I felt a hoof punch my shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell us who you were?”

I turned to see the amber mare and khaki buck whom we had helped back at Fluttershy’s Cottage. The attacking hoof was from the mare, who managed to look both star-struck and cross at the same time. I found myself blushing, and the little pony in my head quickly insisted the extra heat in my cheeks was from the rum and definitely not from embarrassment or being hit by a pretty mare. Oh yes, the canteen. I should drink more now. Easier than responding. Yep.

“I was gushing all about the Wasteland Heroine and you were right there and didn’t say anything!” the mare protested.

Was she mad at me? “I’m not…” I tried to argue, “I mean… I’m just trying to do the right thing. Like anypony would.”

“Oh yes,” the mare chimed, rolling her eyes. “Like anypony would. Because just anypony would risk their life trotting into the home territory of the most dangerous monsters in Equestria to set off a balefire bomb and clear them out.” She smirked.

My eyes widened. My muscles stiffened in alarm. “What? How… You know… but…” I felt my words stumbling over each other. Of course everypony knew. DJ Pon3 had seen to that. But that wasn’t something I should be praised for.

“Yeah,” the buck added. “Way I see it, you can’t have an undetonated megaspell bomb in the wasteland without some evil asshole using it to murder a fuckload of ponies.” I flinched. “But not only did you get rid of it so it couldn’t be used to hurt anypony, but you wiped out… what, hundreds? Thousands?... of monsters that hunt ponies for sport.” His voice oozed sarcasm as he added, “Just like anypony would have done.”

My mind reeled. I felt as if my world had been nudged off-axis. I felt messed up, the memory of what I had done merged into a vision of SteelHooves standing on erupting ground and slashing claws that tore through his armor, severing his neck.

A stallion three cots away from me woke up and began to scream, thrashing violently. Two bucks moved to hold him down while Calamity pulled painkillers from Ditzy Doo’s stock, tossing bottle caps on her counter. Beneath the stallion’s screams, I heard Mayor Railright announcing that Ditzy Doo’s medical stock was being confiscated for emergency use. The little pony in my head stomped at that. I couldn’t imagine anypony, much less sweet Ditzy Doo, trying to sell medicine at a time like this, but I still wanted the mayor to ask permission. Not that he could.

The door banged open, letting in a spray of rain as two colorful, unarmored pegasi pushed into the crowded store. The stallion’s screams began to weaken as Calamity jabbed him with a syringe full of painkiller and pushed the plunger slowly with a hoof. One by one, the other ponies turned to stare, their conversations dropping to hushed tones or dying away. In one corner, a wife continued to sob over her bloodily-bandaged husband, but even she stole a look.

“I’m sure they brought her in here,” the first pegasus -- a sunflower yellow mare with an excessively curly crimson mane and a smiling sun for a cutie mark -- said before stopping, her eyes widening at the stares she was receiving. Behind her, a buck with a coat the color of jade and a short-cropped teal mane looked like he was about to drag her back out by her poofy tail.

“Are you crazy?” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low. But it carried anyway. “They’re going to kill you! They’ve probably already killed her. For all you know, this is their kitchen!”

The mare gave a nervous smile, a bead of sweat falling from her forehead as she looked over the staring unicorn and earth ponies. She lifted a hoof in a timid wave as she threw a harsh whisper back at her companion, “They can hear you.”

The amber mare next to me stomped and nickered. “I’m rethinking that thing about how pegasuses are cool.”

The pegasus mare’s eyes looked back and forth over the room before coming to rest on a nearby bookshelf. “School Special: all pencils and notepads fifty-percent off,” she read softly before turning to her companion. “Not a kitchen. Unless you think they’re offering a hearty school filly salad with a scrumptious pencil cobbler for dessert.”

I heard a few grudging chuckles. To me, the comment just brought up disquieting visions of Arbu.

“They’re joking about eating fillies?” the khaki buck breathed, appalled.

“They’re joking about what they think we’re like,” the amber mare answered.

At the door, the jade-colored buck took the pegasus mare’s mane in his teeth and gave her a tug. “We need to go!” he insisted with a stomp. “The air’s poisonous down here, remember?! She’ll be dead before she can fly again. Hell, we’re probably already dead.”

“I’m not dead yet,” a weak voice called out. A white hoof raised in the air. I shifted to spot the wounded white pegasus. “And according to my PipBuck, the air’s not poisonous, Tracker.”

“Of course it’s poisonous,” the jade pegasus, Tracker, spat back. “You’re using that wrong. You always have. They don’t work when you don’t wear them!”

Actually, I wanted to interject (feeling a moment of pride in my expertise), radiation monitoring would still work, just like the radio. Although, admittedly, health monitoring wouldn’t. My thoughts fell apart before the desire could manifest as more than a vague wish. Between the “medicine” and my exhaustion, I was flirting with incoherency.

“If the air was poisonous,” the yellow pegasus challenged, “how come all these ponies are still alive?”

“They’ve grown resistant to it,” the buck shot back. “Don’t you ever listen to the science station?”

Their argument was interrupted by a rust-colored pegasus in a black desperado hat. “One,” Calamity said authoritatively, “There sure as shit are places where the air is poisonous, but this ain’t one o’ ‘em. Two, y’all can’t go back anyway, so best be thankful fer that.”

The buck’s eyes widened in alarm. Then narrowed. The white pegasus gasped. “What do you mean, we can’t go back?” she wheezed. “I’ve got to go back. Those soldiers were attacking unarmed civilian ponies. Elderly and foals! When my Senator hears about this…”

When her what now?

Calamity turned towards her, his expression gentle and a touch remorseful, but his voice firm. “The Enclave ‘ave seen y’all down here. Reported it. Y’all were on the wrong side of a Shutterflight an’ ‘ave interacted with the locals. Unofficially, y’all are contaminated,” Calamity informed them sadly. “Officially, y’all are probably dead already.”

“Don’t listen to him,” the jade pegasus blurted out.

“By the weekend, the Enclave will ‘ave delivered condolences and new birth-approval certificates t’ yer families…” Calamity continued.

“Sunglint, Morning Frost: Don’t. Listen.” Tracker pushed forward. A few of the ambulatory New Appleloosians stood up and took a step towards him in response. “He’s a Dashite! His words are all lies and infectious ideas!’

Calamity stared at Tracker, unwavering. “Jus’ tryin’ t’ tell ya like it is. Save ya the heartache o’ tryin’ t’ go back.”

“You think I don’t recognize you?” Tracker accused, “You’re Deadshot Calamity. You murdered your troops and fled beneath the clouds to escape punishment. I’ve seen your wanted poster!”

Calamity sighed slightly, glancing back towards me as he muttered under his breath, “History rewritten yet again.” Looking back at the buck, my friend said reasonably, “Believe what ya want t’, but trust me when Ah say ya don’t wanna be headin’ back.” He looked at the two pegasus mares. “That won’t end well fer any o’ ya.”

“We’ve got to try,” the white pegasus with the incredible blue mane stated as she held up her PipBuck. I assumed she was Morning Frost. “I’ve got recordings here.”

“I like her,” the amber mare next to me stated, echoing the little surge in my own heart. Good girl!

“Are you saying you’re innocent?” Tracker sneered. “Then why did you run?”

Calamity lowered his head and pulled on one of the straps of his battle saddle. The other straps came undone and the whole battle saddle slid off to the floor. “Ah don’t deny Ah’m a Dashite,” he said. “Though the rest o’ that Ah take issue with. But then, if Ah escaped justice, how d’ya figure they branded me?”

“Yeah, that don’t make much sense,” assessed the yellow mare (Sunglint, I presumed). “Maybe the Enclave… lied.”

“They can’t lie to us,” Tracker stated in voice you use to state basic facts to slow children. “They’re the government.”

I sensed Calamity’s desire to facehoof radiating off of him. This Enclave… it didn’t make sense to me. My own thoughts swam, clutching for an anchor. I realized it was past time to ask my friend about the ponies we were facing. But first, I needed to rest. Sleep. More than that, I needed time to breathe. To mourn. My heart was bleeding from many deep wounds. Hurt tomorrow, help today. But today was tomorrow, wasn’t it?

I had lost track of the dialogue between the pegasi. With Calamity amongst them, I felt like a poor friend to have done so. I tried to perk my ears and recapture the conversation.

“…after they did nothing about that dragon, the citizens wouldn’t stand for them to be passive about the Splendid Valley Massacre...” Sunglint was saying.

“…can’t ignore me. I’m a member of the Party…” Morning Frost insisted.

“…last time I follow you two anywhere!” Tracker fretted sourly. “With friends like you…”

I gave up, my ears plastering against my head. I lifted my gaze to the spinning fan that hung from the ceiling of Absolutely Everything and tried to let everything go.

I could hurt today, couldn’t I? Cry today. Fight again tomorrow.

The first tear stung my eye then slipped free to roll down my cheek. I tried to blink it back. Not here. I should be alone.

“Hey,” the amber-coated mare spoke, startled. She put a hoof on my shoulder. “Hey, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.”

I turned to look at her.

“If you start crying, then I’ll start crying and it will be a whole messy crying thing.”

Her voice had sincerity behind it. I wasn’t the only pony hurting. And not the only one trying to hide it. I gave her a weak smile.

SteelHooves always hid his pain, the pony in my head reminded me. SteelHooves was always silently strong for everypony.

But that wasn’t necessarily a good thing, was it. My soul felt like it was swimming in darkness, barely treading water, and if I didn’t let out the tears, I’d drown in them.

“Who are you ponies?” a voice on the far side of the room spoke out. Before anypony could answer, the avalanche started.

“You’re the Enclave, right?”
“Why are y’all attackin’ us?
”Was that Celestia up there? Why’ja take Her away?”

Some ponies were curious, most distraught. There was an ugly undertone building with each question.

“Now everypony jus’ calm down,” Calamity said loudly, raising a hoof.

“Ain’t ya one o’ ‘em, Calamity?” somepony asked poisonously.

Calamity stammered, “Now y’all listen here…”

I heard a thud and a high-pitched yelp. It sounded like it came from the next room.

Somepony in the crowd pointed towards me. Past me. Other ponies turned. The steadily raising voices petered out.

Ditzy Doo was standing in the doorway. My heart soared just seeing her upright again. It was like she was her own little beam of sunlight. She looked weak, frail... like she wasn’t quite standing on her own power. Her body canted slightly making me suspect she was leaning on an invisible zebra. But she was alive and awake. One of her eyes tilted towards the ceiling fan, but the other stared at the ponies gathered in her shop. Slowly, she lowered her head, dropping her chalkboard, then wrote on it.

Lifting it back up for everypony to see:

Everypony was quiet.

Then the amber-coated mare, whose name I realized I still hadn’t learned, walked up to Ditzy Doo and gave her a thankful hug.

Within seconds, Ditzy Doo was surrounded by ponies, hugging her and professing their thanks and their relief at her recovery. So much so that an invisible zebra was no longer needed to hold her up, nor even able to stand nearby.

“Can I get you anything?” the young amber heroine offered. “Soda? Squirrel on a stick? Anything?”

My first inclination was to decline. But on second thought, “Water would be nice. Thank you.”

I watched the mare and her friend get up and push their way through the crowd of ponies who had come to see Ditzy Doo. The poor mare was mobbed.

Ditzy Doo was alive.

She wasn’t healthy, not even by any definition that applied to ghouls. But she was alive. And she would continue to live. Probably even make a full recovery according to Candi. Probably.

There was also a good chance she’d never regain full health, never quite have the energy and vigor she used to. But she had saved the town. Saved her daughter. Performed a miracle. As prices went in the Equestrian Wasteland, this was a small one, easy to bear.

“Ya hangin’ on, Li’lpip?” Calamity asked as he landed next to me.

The answer was no, and we both knew it. So instead of lying, I asked, “Her Senator?”

Calamity whinnied. “Ah admire ‘er courage, but it’s suicide. The Enclave Skyguard will have standin’ orders t’ shoot ‘em on sight…” My friend grimaced in pain. “…t’ prevent ‘em from spreadin’ contagion, of course.”

I moaned, closing my eyes. “I’m sorry. Can you convince them?”

“Ah dunno,” Calamity admitted. “But Ah gotta try. Look, Li’lpip, Ah need t’ take off fer a li’l bit. Railright is demanding our new pegasi friends join him in his office for ‘polite questioning’.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

“Ah intend t’ be there with ‘em the whole time,” Calamity stated with a stomp. “Whether the mayor likes it or not.”

I weakly shifted a leg to touch his breast. “Good. Keep them safe.” I didn’t really expect Railright to hurt them, but I suspected he wasn’t above throwing them in jail for “their own protection”, and I doubted his interrogation would remain friendly without Calamity present.

“What’s a Senator?” I asked.

Calamity tilted his hat back. “Member of the Senate. Low Council. They make the policies.”

“And the High Council?”

“Enforce the policies. They’re the highest judges and generals…” Calamity paused, looking at me. “Li’lpip, is this really the best time?”

I let out a groan. “No. But I need to know. I need to understand.” There had been a time I had been thankful I didn’t know about pegasi politics. But that time was passed. It passed when they started killing wasteland ponies.

My friend frowned, closing his eyes. “Folk down here don’t have anythin’ like the Enclave. It’s not really an easy thing t’ explain. Much less t’ somepony who lived ‘er whole life in a Stable.”

“Railright’s going to want to know too.”

“Yeah, Ah know.” Calamity took a deep breath, bulwarking himself. “Okay, Ah know this is gonna sound bizarre t’ ya, but bear with me.”

I nodded, listening. I shouldn’t be doing this now. I was too tired, too frayed and too full of butterscotch rum. But part of me felt like it was now or never. And part of me thought it might do Calamity some good to explain this to a friend before having to help explain it to the mayor.

Calamity was silent, his eyes shifting. I could tell he was looking for a place to start. “You mentioned committees before?” I suggested.

“Okay, yeah,” the orange-maned pegasus said, grasping that. “The Enclave runs the pegasi government through committees. The councils are pretty much jus’ large committees o’ ponies elected t’ make national decisions. The councils then appoint smaller committees t’ handle more localized or specialized… ah hell, mostly, it jus’ means nothin’ ever gets done.”

I was already confused. “So… the Enclave… is it the country, the military or the government?”

Calamity laughed wearily, shaking his head. “Aw hell.” Flicking his tail, he mentally backed up. “Okay, the Enclave is… well… it’s not the country. All pegasi are citizens whether they’re part o’ the Enclave or not. All pegasi get t’ vote fer who they want t’ represent their cities in the Low Council an who they want t’ sit on the High Council. It’s just that only members o’ the Enclave are allowed t’ run fer government positions.”

“And… how does a pegasus become a member of the Enclave?”

“Aw shucks, Li’lpip. That’s easy,” Calamity smirked. “They enlist.”

So… only ponies who served in the military were qualified for government? I tried to wrap my brain around that, but it made my head spin. The Enclave grew out of an isolationist movement, pegasi not wanting to fight in the war.

“Hell, Ah figure they reckon anypony who c’n survive three years o’ military education an’ three months o’ basic trainin’ with muh father has the fortitude t’ help run the country.”

Ugh. The Enclave was quickly ascending to the top of my list of things that made my head hurt. It had already surpassed rock farming and was working on overtaking train engines.

“How do you even have a military when there hasn’t been a war in two hundred years?” I blurted, trying to sort through my confusion.

“Oh, there’ve been little skirmishes,” Calamity noted. “The drive to take the griffin skies was back in Radar’s time. But mostly, the military acts as internal security and cloud curtain patrol.”

I shook my head. “I still don’t get it. Who is your Overmare, then?” Flashing back to Stable Twenty-Four, I added, “Or Overstallion, if that’s what you have.” This was a government. A country. Somepony had to be in charge. Somepony had to be the Princess.

Calamity let out a long sigh. “There isn’t one, Li’lpip. That’s the point.”

I scrunched my forehead, trying to comprehend that, but it went against everything I knew about how communities were run. The idea of the councils sounded a little like Friendship City, but so massive and convoluted that I couldn’t build a frame around it.

Calamity glanced over his wings towards the door. Railright was prodding the two ambulatory pegasi out while Stiletto stood by Morning Frost’s cot. “Li’lpip, Ah gotta go.”

I waved him away. “Go. Help them.” As best you can, my friend.

Calamity rotated, flapping his wings and lifting into the air. The breeze from his wings cooled me.

“Calamity?” I called up to him as he began to move. He stopped, looking back at me.

“We will fix this,” I assured him again. At his pained expression, I admitted, “You’re right… we can’t fix dead. But we can make their deaths meaningful.”

“How, Li’lpip?”

“I don’t know…” I admitted. “Yet. But I promise, we will. We can make this the start of something better. Something worth dying for.”

Calamity smiled. It was a thin smile, but with genuine warmth. “Ah’m gonna hold ya t’ that.”

I smiled to him. My first friend. “Thank you.”

Calamity glanced towards the door. Railright, Tracker and Sunglint had already left. Stiletto was having some difficulty getting Morning Frost maneuvered around the other cots.

I watched as Calamity’s gaze traveled from cot to cot. The elderly buck who had lost his leg was in here. A colt, his body wrapped in blood-stained bandages -- a victim of shrapnel, was crying into his mother’s breast. One of the ragged pieces of explosion-thrown debris had slashed through his cutie mark, less than a week old. The stallion three cots away was sleeping, heavily sedated. His wife had been in the street that the Enclave hosed with burning plasma. She was probably one of the burning ponies I had shot out of mercy. The stallion had injured himself badly trying to get close to her, but his burns were less painful than the anguish of seeing the pony he loved screaming in agony, engulfed in plasma fire… of having that image seared into his mind as his last memory of her.

For once, I was the least wounded person in the room.

“But what do we do until then?” Calamity asked, not looking back.

I bit my lower lip, my body trembling. I could sense the tears coming, but I tried to fight them back. Not here. Not now.

“We do what SteelHooves would do,” I said. “We soldier on.”

After he left, I stared once again at the ceiling fan, my mind spinning just like its blades.

We soldier on. Until we can find a way to make this right, to make things better, we endure. We persevere. We keep helping ponies however we can.

It’s what SteelHooves would have done.

“Got your water,” the amber mare’s voice rang out as she trotted towards me. I felt the soft impact of the canteen on my chest. I heard a pop and hiss as she opened a bottle of Sunrise Sarsaparilla for herself. The sound caused a memory to flash through my head.

Are we on a date?

A memory of SteelHooves. Oh Goddesses, I missed SteelHooves.

And with that, the floodgates blew open. It didn’t matter where I was, or who was around me. I curled up and began to cry. Deep, wrenching sobs. For how much Velvet Remedy was hurting. And Calamity. For Ditzy Doo, who had nearly died. I sobbed for the husband who had lost his wife, the old buck who had lost his leg, the town who had lost the joy of sunlight to bloody battle.

I wept for the little filly whose ashes I kept in a cola bottle. And for Star Sparkle.

But most of all, I cried for SteelHooves.

Swiftly exhausted, Ditzy Doo had moved upstairs with Pyrelight, leaving Silver Bell to “mind the store” and her griffin bodyguard to mind Silver Bell and make sure nopony wandered upstairs after her. While everypony else was preoccupied, Xenith tugged my cot into Ditzy’s room, giving me a bit of peace and privacy.

Cry today. Rest today. Fight again tomorrow.

I had wept for hours. Xenith was keeping vigilant guard at the door, her efforts primarily needed to keep the three young heroes from barging in to try to “help”. I didn’t need or want help. I wanted to cry some more. I needed to sleep.

I was out of tears. My body was exhausted. My mind incoherent. Still, I couldn’t fall asleep. I was too tired to sleep. The gears in my mind had become detached, spinning free. They whirled in my head at the speed of thought, producing nothing.

So many lives were on a razor blade. So many would die while I slept. Red Eye and the Enclave… there was so much to do. Too much for my brain to grasp it. I needed a way to make it right. To make it all matter.

I tried to focus, believing that if I could just corral my thoughts, railroad them, then maybe I could finally rest.

But my thoughts did not want to go to happy places. Instead, they returned again and again to Splendid Valley and that little place just beyond its rim.

My memories fixed on the sensation of being floated out of the safe room, the super alicorn pulling me to safety. Ditzy Doo had found me. Twilight Sparkle had saved me. At least, I really wanted to believe…

She’d stared at my saddle bags. I hadn’t really noticed it then, but I recalled that now. She’d seemed fixated on them.

In a rush, I suddenly yet absolutely knew that it was Twilight Sparkle, or at least what was left of her, riding that alicorn. Controlling it. And I knew how she had found me.

Be Strong! Be Pleasant. Be Unwavering! Be Awesome!

She hadn’t been saving me. I found myself doubting that what was left of Twilight Sparkle even realized I was there. She was saving her friends. Saving them from a fate that literally was her own. Or maybe (Be Smart) she had just sensed herself. And, in the grip of some nightmarish déjà vu, she had come to her own rescue.

I couldn’t be sure.

My thoughts slid into more jumbled memories at the sound of erupting earth.

Didja’ find anythin’ this time? Calamity’s voice rang in my thoughts as I pictured SteelHooves’ head rolling away from his body.

I choked, forcing my mind away, only to have the scene replaced in my mind’s eye by Velvet Remedy clinging to Calamity, sobbing.

We fight and hurt and bleed to try to make Equestria better. But you can’t stop something until you take away its reason for being that way.

I couldn’t stop the raiders. They were born of the horror and harshness of the wasteland. All I could do was keep killing them until I drowned in their blood, history’s greatest mass murderer.

Red Eye. The Enclave.

Red Eye claimed that he was going to remove himself from the equation. As strange or foalish as it might seem, I believed him. He was an honorable bastard of sorts. But the Enclave… how could I stop something as mighty as a whole army? A whole government, if I understood half of what I thought I did about them?

Only time they c’n act as one is when they’re feelin’ threatened.

Gaaaah! I just wanted to sleep! I was going to go crazy.

Surprisingly, I found myself thinking of Rainbow Dash. And remembering the rings of crackling, electrified smoke fanning out over the table map of Equestria.

That would start rain. I designed it after the contrails of the Wonderbolts! Rainbow Dash had boasted. Everything about the Single Pegasus Project goes through me, and it doesn’t get my hoof of approval unless it’s cool!

Start. I wasn’t sure why, but my mind caught on that word.

Start. I could hear the metallic drumming of the rain on the roof of Absolutely Everything. Start. The store shook at the rumble of overhead thunder.

The towers could start the rain. Equestria-wide if they were ordered to. That meant they could also stop the rain. Make it a sunny day. Equestria-wide.

I felt the gears in my head fitting back into place in a new configuration. A new mental machine building a new picture.

Agriculture, yew silly ‘corn, Radar stated. Without the towers… the Enclave falls.

The only way to stop the Enclave… to save Equestria… was to take control of the cloud curtain. Peel it back. Give sunlight once again to Equestria. Not only would that break their power, it would reveal their lies and show the pegasi what was really going on down here.

That was what the Enclave feared. And for good reason. If the cloud curtain was lost, it wouldn’t just destroy the Enclave, it would force the pegasi to return to the surface. They would no longer be able to sustain themselves. Ultimately, it was all about agriculture.

The pegasi would either reunite with the earth ponies and unicorns, or try to invade. Judging by the three pegasi I had seen today and trusting Calamity’s word, most of them would want to help.

Even so, it could get really ugly, really fast. Red Eye, however, probably considered that acceptable. He had plans for a massive agricultural base in the Everfree Forest, but that was years away from being a reality. Until then, ponykind would be struggling to survive on remaining scraps. And who knew if there would be enough?

But… there was something else. One other chance that Red Eye didn’t know about.

It wouldn’t take an army to stop the Enclave. Just one pony. One expendable pony. A pony who wasn’t necessary to make things right again.

You’ve never been forced to give up your principles for the greater good, Red Eye had once told me. To sacrifice yourself and become a monster because it was the right thing to do.

Suddenly, I knew. I knew my purpose.

Bringing back the sun.

Rings of crackling, electrified smoke, the pony in my head pondered. But what about when the towers stopped the rain and cleared away the clouds? What would that look like?

Not the same. Same is boring, Rainbow Dash had said. At least, she had in my dream. Calamity’s words echoed through my head:

Well, there’s only one way t’ clear an area that big that fast. An’ that’s with a sonic rainboom.

Despite my overwhelming weariness, I bolted upright.

Sunshine and rainbows.

“I’ll be damned.”

Somewhere in the other room, a rush of excited voices rose and fell, followed by somepony turning up Ditzy Doo’s radio loud enough to distort the voice of DJ Pon3.

“…back, children. But not for long. So there’s a few things I gotta tell you about.

“First, our hearts and prayers go out to the folks of Friendship City and everypony who had relatives there. Late yesterday, in their most horrific attack yet, that airborne plague callin’ themselves the Enclave brutally slaughtered Friendship City. The city’s gone, children. Hundreds of ponies dead. If you didn’t believe me before, believe me now. The Enclave ain’t here to save anypony. They ain’t our friends.

“But I’m not bringing you a dark cloud without a silver lining, children! Here’s the good news: the ponies of the Equestrian Wasteland are standing up against them. And I’m not just talkin’ about our Bringer of Light, although she’s been right in the thick of it. When the Enclave came for Friendship City, she struck back at them. Thanks to our wasteland heroine, the Enclave lost everything they threw at Friendship City; and more importantly, a couple hundred ponies survived that attack.

“But she ain’t the only hero standing strong against the Enclave. Remember those renegade Steel Ranger outcasts I told you about? Well, they call themselves the Applejack’s Rangers now. And even as I speak, the Applejack’s Rangers are working ‘round the clock to ferry survivors off of Friendship Island, protecting them on the way to new homes.

“Where can they find new homes, you might ask? The answer is everywhere they go. Even that normally stuffy Tenpony Tower has opened its doors to refugees… after a hoof-full of unicorns rose up and kicked the Enclave’s sorry tails out of their tower. Yee-haw! Score one for the good ponies!

“And I’ve got more reports coming in. Heroes all the way from Shattered Hoof to Hoofington have been holding the line against the nightmares from above. I have a tale here of two such heroes taking down one of those warships just south of Stalliongrad. Left a calling card: Lion & Mouse. Well, tell you what, Lion and Mouse. Drop by Tenpony Tower sometime. As soon as my assistant is back from her vacation, I’d love to have her sit down with you for an interview. And to the griffins and ponies who fought off the Enclave at Shattered Hoof: damn fine work.

“But the biggest strike against the Enclave has come from none other than our own beloved author of the Wasteland Survival Guide, Ditzy Doo. You all saw it. Hell, I could see that glow all the way from Shattered Hoof Ridge. We don’t even have a name for what the wasteland’s favorite pegasus managed to do this morning. Sonic Radboom? Toxic Rainboom? Well, whatever you call it, I call it a miracle.”

So do I, love.

“Now don’t worry children. I know I just kinda let my location slip. But the Enclave already knew. I saw a whole murder of them flying this way from the tower monitors before I started broadcasting. They’ll be at the door any moment. And I don’t think they plan on inviting me to tea. But don’t worry about me. I’m not a fighter. Never really have been, not even when I was a wasteland explorer. I was more of a hacker and repair pony myself. Fixing things up, building off of schematics, making the technologies and magic of the old world work for me. I can barely shoot a gun. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to lay down and let them take me.

Any chance of sleeping evaporated at those words. I lay in my cot, my nerves crackling, anxiously straining to hear every word. Every background sound that came over that radio. It took me a moment to remember my own earbloom and tune into the broadcast on my own PipBuck-leg-thing.

“So, two things before I leave you again. First, I want to dedicate this broadcast to the late Elder SteelHooves, founder of the Applejack’s Rangers. I know, with all the death we’ve seen, it might seem odd to single one pony out. But SteelHooves wasn’t just any pony.

“SteelHooves was a hero. A protector of ponies. He put his life on the line saving others, and he inspired other ponies to do the same. A whole legion within the Steel Rangers broke away to follow his example.

“SteelHooves was a companion to our wasteland heroine as well. She was stonger with him at her side. Her victories were often his victories as well.

“When I first met SteelHooves, he was making sure Chief Grim Star died a hero in the eyes of the ponies under his care. I came to know him fairly well over the last few weeks.”

Of course she had, I thought. She’d watched my memories.

“I’ll tell you the truth: SteelHooves was not without his flaws. He was not always a good pony. He meted out justice as he saw fit, and I did not always agree with whom he chose to play judge and executioner. But that is the harsh law of the Equestrian Wasteland.

“But he never faltered. He held true to his love and his principles, fighting until the day he died. SteelHooves had lived an impossibly long life. His death was swift, painless and in battle. It was the death I believe he would have wanted. And now it is our turn: to hold true, to fight and to never falter.”

Tears trickled down my cheeks. I was weeping again.

“And with that, children, I have a confession to make. This broadcast? It’s not exactly live.

“And I have a message for the black-armored soldiers who just burst into the station at the Shattered Hoof Ridge Tower: that thing you’re looking at with the glowing blue light? A little homebrewed surprise rigged to the spark battery from a weapon made by the motherfuckin’ stars!”

“Farewell, you…”

The broadcast cut off with an abrupt blast of static. It wasn’t replaced by Enclave Radio. The airwaves just went dead silent. And remained so for the ten longest minutes the Equestrian Wasteland had ever experienced.

From the cot in Ditzy Doo’s room, I had only the darkness and Homage’s words to hold me. I could not know that my love had struck the deepest, most vital blow to the Enclave yet. I did not realize Homage had pulled the entire power supply from that alien weapon and rigged it to a bomb. I did not see the brilliant blue explosion that obliterated more than just the base station and the dozen heavily-armed Enclave pegasi inside. For two hundred years, the nearly fifty towers of the Single Pegasus Project had stood, impervious to everything the enemy and the wasteland could throw at them. I was not a witness on that snow-swept ridge as one of those towers cracked, shifted, and came tumbling down.

I awoke, disoriented by the sense of having lost time. I did not remember falling asleep. But my body was rested. I could get up, walk around again, and I did so. The metallic pattering of the rain sizzled in the air above me.

The ghosts of dreams returned to me, faded and fragmented. Dreams of sunshine and sonic radbooms.

I was hungry. And thirsty. I had a slight headache and I needed to relieve myself.

Stumbling into the store, I was surprised to find it devoid of medical cots. Instead, the store had been taken over by griffins.

Outside, thunder rumbled.

Gawdyna Grimfeathers was talking to Ditzy Doo’s bodyguard. There were two smaller griffins present, adolescents if I was sizing them up right, similar enough in build and stature to make me suspect they were twins. One of them was talking to Calamity, a discussion that seemed to focus on a pair of odd pistols she carried in holsters strapped to her breast. She had one of them out and open, holding it carefully in her talons for Calamity’s inspecting eye. The griffin was of similar build to Gawd, but slimmer, and would definitely be appealing if it weren’t for the suspicion she was at least five years younger than me. I could tell she’d grow up to be very pretty. If the wasteland let her. The other griffin was leaning against the shop counter, a bemused expression on his beak as Silver Bell tried to sell him one random item after another. He had apparently already bought an iron, three billiard balls and an empty tin can just to keep the little filly happy.

Ditzy Doo was hovering over her workbench (literally), working on something that looked a lot like my Canterlot Police Barding. At my appearance, she scooped up the barding, taking her chalkboard in her mouth, and fluttered over to me.

The ghoul pegasus offered me the barding -- it was indeed my armor, but Ditzy had repaired and reinforced it, making it stronger and more protective than before.

Her chalkboard read: It was looking a bit shot up.

I blushed. “Th-thanks. How much do I owe you?”

Ditzy Doo seemed to laugh. She set down the chalkboard, rubbing it clean with a hoof, then wrote: No charge. The Wasteland Heroine wears armor by Ditzy Doo. You’re good advertisement.

The ghoul smiled at me. The smile was grim, showing too many teeth and too much of her gums. But I felt the warmth of it. She wanted to help. The advertising was an excuse.

I threw my forehooves around her, giving the ghoul a (squishy) hug. She tensed just a moment, then hugged back. Squishily.

“You’re a good friend,” I whispered to her. “And a good pony. One of the best this world has to offer. Thank you.”

She pulled back and looked at me oddly. Then shook her head and pointed a hoof at my chest.

My guess was that she was saying “not me, you”. (Either that, or she was starting an impromptu game of tag.) Before I could respond, Silver Bell ran up, her little horn glowing with a faint silver light as she floated a small pile of bottle caps up to Ditzy Doo.

“Look, mommy! I made a sale!”

A gentle, crystalline melody, like the chiming of a dozen silver bells, wafted through the store.

Calamity approached me, followed by the young griffin woman with the pistols. “Li’lpip, you’re awake!”

Part of me wanted to run to him and tell him I had a plan. That I had somehow had an epiphany and I knew just want we needed to do. What I needed to do. It wouldn’t make everything right, but it would be a massive start.

But I wasn’t ready yet. I needed more information. I needed to know how the Enclave was going to react to what happened here. To what Ditzy Doo had done. And I really needed to pee.

“How long was I out?” I asked, noticing a lack of light through the windows. The store shook slightly with another rolling percussion of thunder. The thudding in my head grew a little worse.

“About twelve hours,” Calamity admitted. Most of a day!

I needed to take care of a few things. I needed to borrow a bathroom and maybe some painkiller. But before I could excuse myself to care for either, Calamity wrapped a wing around me and ushered me towards the two younger griffins. “You’ll never guess who.”

“um…” I said uncomfortably.

“Littlepip, this is Kage and Reggie,” he said, pointing to the male griffin first. He smiled wryly as he put his newly purchased tin can into his saddlebags. “Kage, Reggie, this here is Li’lpip…”

I lifted a hoof in a timid wave.

“…Bringer of Light and heroine of the wastelands.”

My hoof dropped as my face went red. I hated Calamity so much right then.

“I’d say ol’ Derpy did more light-bringing today than you, Li’lpip,” Kage chuckled, offering a set of talons. I hesitated, feeling both embarrassed and vaguely offended to hear someone other than a small colt use that nickname, even though Calamity once told me she found it endearing.

I lifted my hoof and he shook it with mercifully gentleness, a good thing since his talons were painfully sharp even in a gentle grasp. I drew my hoof back, checking for spots of blood, sure he could have taken my hoof off if he had wanted too. I shifted my attention to the pretty young griffin, extending my hoof with a slight wince. I felt myself blushing slightly more.

“Kage and Regina Grimfeathers,” Calamity whispered into my ears.

I froze. My jaw dropped open.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Reggie smirked. I could see Kage already rolling his eyes. “We’re the children of Gawd.”

Gawd had kids?!

The little pony in my head started running around in circles, protesting: I was not checking out your daughter! I was not checking out your daughter!

My gaze shifted to Gawdyna, who was now talking to both Ditzy and the other griffin. Ditzy Doo was holding up one of her chalkboards -- I couldn’t see the writing -- and Gawd was answering, “Well, I can’t rightly go chargin’ the town fer protection if we don’t show up t’ protect it, now can I?”

Gawdyna is running a protection racket on New Appleloosa that comes with actual protection? The little pony in my head chuckled affectionately, that is so Gawdyna! Loyal to the contract.

Of course I hadn’t been looking at Regina like that. She was a little young for me, not to mention she was a griffin. (Gawd’s a griffin, my little pony pointed out.)

Okay, sure. I once found Gawdyna to be fanciable… for a griffin. But that was before Homage. And I was really lonely…

My eyes took in the griffin as if trying to assure myself that it was just a passing fancy.

Yes, she is strong, and beautifully built, and the scars actually really add to her presense… (and apparently I really like older mares, the pony in my head taunted). But Gawdyna didn’t look old. (First Velvet, my little pony jabbed, now mommy griffin?) I wanted that little pony to shut up so badly. Gawdyna wasn’t old. Adult, yes, but… (What, did she have them when she was three?) … not old. She still looked vigorous and built and… did I just have no sense of age when it came to griffins?

“Oh. My. Gawd!” Reggie exclaimed loudly, taking her mother’s name in vain (!) like only a teenager could. “Littlepip’s hawt for mother!”

Luna’s moaning moonheat!

That burning in my cheeks exploded over my entire body. “What!? No! I… but…” I saw Gawdyna looking back at me her eyebrow lifted high over her good eye. “GAAH!!”

I collapsed to the floor in pure embarassment, trying to bury my head under my hooves.

Kill me now.

“And here I was going t’ say yer boyfriend was waiting for you outside,” Gawd called over to me, mercifully giving me the excuse to dash out into the rain like I was being pursued by a pack of hellhounds.

I leaned against the train engine that made up part of the hodge-podge construction of Absolutely Everything. It was the dark, dead hours of the early morning. That hour where the darkness lays most heavily on the soul and the hungry monsters outside claw at your door.

Rain poured down, turning the streets into rivers, washing away the radiation and the blood. The lights of New Appleloosa cut beams through the rainfall, making the falling water shimmer and shine in the blackness. Water spilled from rooftops and gurgled down gutters to splash into overfilled rain barrels. I was quickly soaked to the bone.

Nopony was outside. My utter, devastating humiliation took a backseat to the need to pee. I trotted around the side of the building, glancing around to make sure I wasn’t watched, and started to relieve myself into a streamlet.

“Hello, Littlepip…” a voice said from absolutely nowhere and about two yards in front of me.

I jumped up, my heart trying to leap out of my chest. Embarrassment, annoyance and shock fought each other for dominance as I recognized the mechanical voice of Watcher.

“…oh. Sorry. I’ll just be over here.”

“A little late now!” I grumble-shouted. Dammit! I should have used my Eyes-Forwards Sparkle to check the area.

With a deep sigh, I brought up my E.F.S. and located the sprite-bot. “Are you all right?” I asked. Might as well talk with him. Wasn’t like I was going to be able to finish after that anyway.

“Me? Yes. But...” Watcher sounded hesitant. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” And guilty. “Are you?”

There were so many ways the answer to that should have been no. But instead, I chose to cut to the chase. “What’s wrong?”

Watcher was silent for a minute, the sprite-bot bobbing in the rain. “I goofed up, Littlepip.” My mind strained trying to imagine a huge, ferocious dragon saying the word goofed. But this was Spike. “I’ve put you in danger.”

I closed my eyes. Danger wasn’t exactly new. “What happened?” Somewhere behind me, I heard a door open and close.

“Li’lpip?” Calamity called into the night.

I lifted a hoof, motioning for Watcher to hold his thought. “Over here,” I called to Calamity.

The sprite-bot waited silently until Calamity had trotted up next to me, his hooves splashing in the streamlet that I had been using a couple minutes ago.

“The Enclave has security footage of you guys in the Ministry of Awesome. And High General Harbinger managed to get a transmission out of Maripony before it went up. They’ve put two-and-two together.”

Not exactly unexpected. And was I the only pony who found it exasperatingly wrong that “high general” was an elected position?

Watcher continued, “The Enclave have sent their best hit squad after you and your friends.”

“Aw hell,” Calamity moaned.

“Who?” I asked.

“The Wonderbolts,” Watcher informed us.

I blinked. “Wait. Who?” The Enclave had named their best pack of hunters the Wonderbolts? There was something in my heart (Be Awesome!) that wanted to kick their asses just for using that name. “That is so wrong.”

“It gets worse,” Watcher admitted. “One of the Enclave Skyguard ponies who saw you two in my cave was a junior member of the Wonderbolts. He recognized you, Calamity. They came to my cave…”

“Gutshot,” Calamity muttered.

I remembered the pegasus: That's Deadshot Calamity. Winner of the Best Young Sharpshooter competition four years running. You don't forget the pony who beat you.

One of the Wonderbolts (I so wanted to awesomely stomp them!) was second only to Calamity as a sharpshooter? And Calamity never missed!

My eyes widened in sudden alarm. “Spike!” I gasped, forgetting myself. “Your cave! Did they…” No no no! Please, don’t let the Enclave have destroyed the Gardens of Equestria!!

“It’s safe,” Spike said through the sprite-bot, filling me with relief. “But… well, you understand why I had to get them out of there as quickly as possible, don’t you?” His voice, even though synthetically manufactured, still managed to sound plaintive.

Calamity exhaled a long sigh. “What did ya tell ‘em?”

“And I’ve never been very good at being interrogated!” Spike continued.

“What did ya tell ‘em!” Calamity said sternly.

“Nothing much… really… Just…” Spike paused as if steeling himself. “I told them you had been in Ironshod Firearms.”

Calamity blinked. “Huh?”

“Old weapons factory,” I told him. “I met Watcher outside of it once. Long time ago,” I asserted even as I realized that it wasn’t that long ago at all. Two months. But those two months had been a lifetime. “Before I met you.”

“Okay…” Calamity pondered. Then, “Ah don’t get it. So what?”

But I knew what Spike was worried about. My mind was flashing back to when I learned that the Steel Rangers were after Stable Two, and my fears that it was somehow my fault. That when I had hacked the door for Stable Twenty-Nine, I had left something behind…

And I was a lot less careful or experienced back at Ironshod Firearms. I’d hacked into that office computer like a careless amateur. Left my virtual hoofprints all over it.

“How… technically proficient are the Wonderbolts?” I asked slowly.

Calamity frowned, shifting his position. “Depends.” He took a deep breath and addressed the sprite-bot. “Do the Wonderbolts still have Windsheer and Lensflare?”

“Who?” I questioned, figuring they were names I might need to know.

Calamity rustled his wings. “Windsheer is my eldest brother,” the rust-colored pegasus told me, adding, “Dad’s favorite. Master of communications technologies. Top of his class. Graduated with honors. Made corporal. Member of the Wonderbolts…” He shook his head. “Only one of us dad ever seemed to approve of. But then, why wouldn’t he be dad’s favorite?”

I winced. “And Lensflare?”

“Windsheer’s best friend, rival, occasional lover,” Calamity said. “Expert repair pony, especially when it comes to magical energy weapons. Taught me a few tricks I used to build the novasurge rifles in my Enclave armor. Also top of his class, focused in arcano-tech.”

Crap. We were in trouble. First and foremost, how could we go to war against Calamity’s big brother? Then again, considering what I had seen of his family so far, pummeling the buck might be highly therapeutic.

“Windsheer left the Wonderbolts several years ago,” Watcher told us, immediately making me feel much better about the situation. “Followed other promotions according to the press release.”

“Press release?” I questioned.

Calamity leaned close and whispered, “The Wonderbolts are the stars of the Enclave. Spend as much time putting on shows at patriotism events as they do actually hunting.” He added, “Probably more.”

Celebrities. The best hunter-killer pack in the Enclave… they tracked down and murdered ponies for a living, and they had fans. They put on shows. Ponies lined up for their autographs. There were press releases whenever they had a roster change. How fucked up was that?

“But Lensflare is still with them. He was one of the pegasi who visited my cave yesterday.”

My face fell. We were dead.

Calamity saw my expression. “Li’lpip?”

“They can get my tag from the computer in Ironshod Firearms,” I told him, my voice resigned. “And as soon as they do, they’ll be able to use their armor to locate me no matter where I go.”

“I’m sorry, Littlepip,” Spike said remorsefully. “But… you can just take your PipBuck off, right? Lead them astray?”

I lifted my foreleg, showing the sprite-bot how my PipBuck had become grossly melded to my body.

Watcher had the wits to say nothing.

“I could cut my leg off,” I thought out loud. I might even regrow it. “Or I could just leave. Draw them away.” I looked at Calamity. “Keep you safe.”

“Aw hell no!” Calamity gave a stomp. “Nothin’ doin’, Li’lpip. We stick together.”

“But…”

“But nothin’!” Calamity said sternly. Then he smiled. “Besides, Ah got muhself a plan,” Calamity grinned, poking my nose with a hoof. “Trust me, Li’lbait.”

This wasn’t going to end well.

Footnote: Maximum Level